Manolo and the Matador
by Violet-The-Bat
Summary: A story about Manolo and his dad; what happens Carlos finds Manolo running away from his training? What happens when Manolo asks the one question Carlos never imagined: Why am I forbidden to be myself? THIS STORY IS NOW FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

Manolo and the Matador

Manolo's father, Carlos had spent his entire day scouting the town for his deluded little boy. He knew buying that guitar for his son's eighth birthday was a mistake. The only reason he went through with the purchase was because his wife, Carmen had nagged and insisted that if that's the special gift their child wanted, then why not?

It'd been two years now since her death. Oh, but enough about Carmen; this wasn't about her, it was about their son being the next boy in their family to keep the Sanchez tradition going.

Ah, bullfighting. Now that was a stunt only a Sanchez man could handle. Every man in the family had been a bullfighter; but Manolo was different...in a bad way.

He didn't even enjoy bullfighting. Everytime his back was turned, Manolo'd be gone, and so was his guitar.

One day, he'd had enough of this foolishness. After finding Manolo performing like a bum for pocket change on the side of a road in town, he snatched his son by the arm with one hand, and his guitar with the other.

Little Manolo dreaded the moment they arrived home; what was his dad going to do this time?Carlos angrily tossed Manolo on the couch, and threw his guitar on coffee table in front of him.

"I've had it up to here with your ignoring your training, and wasting your time with this guitar!"

"_Papi_-"

"_Callate! _Until you learn in what order your priorties need to be in, your guitar will remain on the very top the bookcase in my room."

"_Ama _and Maria'd tell me to be whatever I wanted."

"Well, allthanks to you, neither of them are here. If you hadn't encouraged Maria to free those animals, you'd be outside playing with her and Joaquin."

"I didn't tell her to free them!"

"Just stop it, and go to your room! You'll be allowed to come out in a few minutes, because you have yet to finish your daily training."

For thirteen years straight, Manolo was forced to get up at 5:00 every day, and train for nineteen hours (with a few breaks in between)

Even though the daily training was exhausting, Manolo's need to have his guitar back gave him something to look forward to.

Off and on through his child and adolescent years, and finally into the young adult age of twenty-three, his behavior pattern remained almost the same. Whenever his dad wasn't supervising him, he'd run into town with his guitar to play with the Mariachi Bros.

Sometimes, Manolo wasn't as slick as he thought. He'd make back to practice before his dad stopped by to check on him, and totally believe that his father had no idea that he'd neglected a good amount of time on his training.

But after dinner in the front yard that evening, Carlos brought up that same question he had the same answer to.

"How did training go today?"

Manolo almost immediately choked, and pounded on his chest to clear his throat.

"It-it, eh, okay, I guess.

"By the way, Pancho wanted me to let you know that they're playing in the town square tomorrow, and they'd like you to join them."

Manolo nervously cringed and looked away with guilt.

"You really thought they were gonna keep it hidden? You know they don't ever hide anything from me once a little interrogation is used. Well, you have anything to say?"

"I'm sorry _Apa_; I-promise you that I still trained today, I only played a little."

"I don't wanna hear it. You're going to be supervised every hour of the day, from now on."

Letting his bottled anger finally burst, Manolo threw his plate to the ground.

"Why?! Why am I not allowed to be myself?! Have you not even noticed how greatly I've improved in my fighting routine? Of course not! You only stay so rarely."

Stress-oriented tears rivered themselves into the canyons of his eye luggage where the smoky-black rings of lost sleep kept the stream moving down the sandy desert of his caramel cheeks, and formed a mini waterfall that flowed off the cliff-edge of his chin.

"What's my one rule?" Carlos asked.

"If your roof is over my head, I stay under your rules."

"Exactly."

"You still didn't respond to my question! Why am I forbidden to be me?"

Carlos threw his food away, too, and lividly stomped toward his heir. When they're faces were only a distance of about seven inches from each other, Carlos did the one thing he promised Carmen he'd never do: raise his hand to his son's face.

From there, it got very ugly.

He unmercilessly kept pushing and hitting.

"If you don't wanna fight a beast like a man, then you might wanna learn how to fight a person man to man."

Manolo didn't fight.

"Stop holding back!"

Manolo only continued to try to block the hits.

"Please, stop _Apa! _I won't hurt you! So why must you hurt me?"

By the time his upper age tolled on him, Carlos wheezed enough breath to kick Manolo one more time...while he was on the ground!

Manolo opened his eyes wide enough to notice the one man who promised to be at his side-his father-had thrown his treasured guitar in front of him.

"Don't ever let me catch you playing this anywhere close to me."

With nothing more to say, the elder returned into the house, and locked every entry. When Manolo mustered enough strength to pick himself up, he did his best limp back to the door, only to be greeted by a heart-breaking sign left on the locked door.

"_The entry of Manolo isn't allowed until he earns the right to call himself a Sanchez, and finally, when he earns the right to be my son."_

Sobbing like a child, Manolo limped into town, to find a place where he'd be accepted. It took him a decent hour, but he finally managed to drag himself on a doorstep downtown. He cried with instant relief when Joaquin opened the door.

"Manny?"

"_Amigo_..."

Joaquin picked up his friend over his shoulders and carried him inside.

"Mama!"

A woman about forty-seven years old rushed out of the kitchen and instantly tended to Manolo, who's face, stomach, and hands were bruised and bloody. His hysteria calmed once the bandages were applied and Joaquin put a blanket over him.

"Joaquin-"

"Try to relax a little, okay? Mama will bring you something to eat, you can watch tv, and once you've got a little sleep, then we'll talk."

"Alright."

The last thing he remembered was thanking Joaquin's mom for a delicious meal. Next thing that happened, he was awakened by the sound of the tv's white noise still running.

"Joaquin?"

A pair of pounding boots actoss the floor came running to him.

"Hey, you're up!"

Manolo's back hurt from the stiff cushions on the couch.

"Listen, Joaquin, my-Apa hurt me."

"Why?"

"Don't know. Hey, will help me get back?"

"Yeah, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No."

END OF PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Manolo and the Matador Part Two

Noon rolled around, and exactly while Joaquin was helping Manolo stand up, a few light pounds were heard on the door. Like an idiot, Joaquin's pigeon-like attention span immediately caused him to drop Manolo like a toy, and rush to the door.

"Ow."

The door opened, and on the front step, clearer than day, stood Maria with a slender sword in her hand.

"Maria! What're you doin' here?"

"We had a fencing match today, remember?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Something wrong?"

"No." Joaquin said in a very awkward way.

"Joaquin, stop lying."

"Lying? I'm not lying, the lying I'm up to around here is lying down the law to criminals; speaking of lying, do you like lions? And what type of lions?"

Annoyed with his stalling, Maria sighed, agitated, and just about yelled at him if it wasn't for the painful cries coming from inside.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Maria instantly put her sword up to Joaquin's face.

"Ladies first." He said, with his posture in a gentleman type of way.

She followed the cries and saw Manolo face-planted into the carpet.

"Manolo! What happened?"

"Mhmemn..."

"Huh?"

Manolo's shoulders sank in huffy way.

"Oh! Sorry."

The he and she picked up their friend and put him back on the couch. Maria's shock raised when she saw the bandages all over his hands and stomach.

"What happened? Bullfighting accident?"

"More like Papa Bull accident."

"Papa Bull?"

Joaquin nervously spoke up.

"His, uh, dad did this."

"Wh-why? Your father has always been so kind to you."

"He found out that I ditched practice yesterday, I raised my voice, he raised his hand."

"To me, it looks like he raised much more than his hand."

Remembering that experience overwrought Manolo's emotions, and caused his sensitive side to reveal itself.

"Maria; what should I do?" He weeped.

"My father won't accept my existance until I accept my family's tradition!"

Joaquin patted a reassuring hand on his pal's shoulder, while Maria hugged him.

His salty rain ceased when he felt Maria's embrace. Her long, chocolate curls draped over

her shoulder, and in between them; they almost had the texture of a curly, silken ribbon.

Three months passed before Carlos began looking for Manolo. He looked in every possible spot his son was known for playing in. An all day search ended in a void turnout.

Manolo had left San Angel. At least, that's what _he_ thought. Carlos returned home, but was suddenly ambushed by an emormous figure. He used all his strength to free himself, but it felt then, like the attacker had suddenly let him go upon demand like a dog or something.

He turned around, and there wasn't anything there. Before he could even question what had just occurred, an irritated voice hollered from upstairs.

"Carlos!"

"What's wrong Mom?"

Carlos' grumpy mom rolled her wheelchair down the cedar steps, looking a lot more cranky than usual.

"I was trying to take a nap, and then I hear all this this high-pitched screaming! Did you scare those girl scouts again?"

"Y-yeah that's what happened."

"Well, you must have. They left one of those signs on your back again."

"Huh?"

Trying to locate the paper, he tried squat down to his mom's height.

"What's it say this time?"

"What? I didn't teach you how to read?"

"No."

"Oh, yeah, that'd explain why you couldn't read the word, jasmine last week. Anyway, it says:_ Carlos, you left your cape at the stadium again; pick it up before 6:00, or else the janitor will think it's just trash."_

"Okay, I'll be right back Mom."

"Please hesitate."

Carlos stared at the empty stadium.

"Son, you could've made such a wonderful fighter."

He was about to leave, when a voice said:

"Who says I'm not?"

Out of the Matador's entrance, came Manolo. He looked so angry, and and his bruises near his temples weren't even healed yet.

Once he saw the bruises, he felt so guilty.

"Son, I'm-"

"_Callate!"_ Manolo snapped.

"You wanted me to fight? Then come on."

Manolo pulled out the swords that were supposed to be used in killing the bull during fights. Carlos pulled out his, too, and they sped at each other like a pair of bulls themselves.

Maria and Joaquin had just heard about Manolo's abuse-driven insanity, and tried to hurry to stop them, but they didn't make it on time.

END OF PART 2


	3. Chapter 3

Manolo and the Matador Part 3

Manolo used his sword to smack his father's away; as he tried a straight-through stab, Carlos repeated Manolo's first defense move. The intense close clashes made each of their pulses dash. The clanging echoes bounced and slithered all over their arms like a vibrating snake.

Sweaty palms made the father and son tighten and tense. Somebody was going be injured, and their survival instincts provided the numbing adrenaline they so badly required to move and persevere in the battle.

The more the blades rushed, the closer and closer the silver slivers came to their targets.

The heated duel stirred up a cyclone of dust; the elder and youth were both nearly blinded from the sandy particles. Carlos eventually found a blind spot, and managed to deliver a graze wound over Manolo's waist.

He continued to fight. Carlos didn't give up either. Both men refused to throw their pride in the dirt; neither were going to give up until either one of them surrendered...or died.

"Why do you dare challenge your father like this?"

"You forbade me to be myself, disowned me as your son, and you beat me and kicked me out!"

Maria stood on the sides with Joaquin. For the first time in her twenty-one years of living, she was terrified. She didn't want either of them to be hurt! If only there was some way to stop them.

Carlos and Manolo soon began to tire; were either of them man enough to just say: _"I don't want to fight"?_

"Surrender, gray-head!"

"Over my dead body, hoodlum!"

"That wish can be easily granted."

"Not without a fight, it can't!"

It started to become very intense. Trying to find a way to fight without exerting too much steam, Manolo's bull fighting training gave him an idea.

Carlos was positive by now that his weak son would've given up, already. He was suddenly taken by surprise when Manolo put his bull fight training to use.

Just when Carlos thought the win was his, Manolo used the dodging techniques he had learned over the long, thirteen years he had been forced to learn. With grace and ease, the young man twirled like a trained ballroom dancer, and remained safe from the sharp blade's edge.

He started getting a little smug; feeling almost instantly invincible, Manolo kept dodging and began to actually have a little enjoyment in the fight.

"_Toro! Toro!"_ He yelled.

He might as well have been fighting a real bull with the red cape and everything.

"_Venga, toro! Venga!"_

Carlos had become so angered, by this teasing, he began to _act_ like a real bull; he charged, he screamed, and everything. Sooner or later, he slowed, and stopped to breathe.

Falling to his knees, Carlos wheezed.

"What's wrong, _Apa?_ Arthritis getting too you? Ah, too bad. I guess that's what happens when you get up there in years, huh?"

Suddenly, Manolo felt sorry; why? He wasn't sure.

But while he remained quarreling with his conscience, Carlos regained his breath, and nearly nailed him.

The two swords eventually met each other face to face; they were clashed in a crossed manner. Both of them were pushing and fighting to gain dominance like a pair of wolves. Or, in this case...wolf teeth.

Feeling their arms about to cave from muscle exhaustion, both pulled back, and charged again.

This was it. they could feel it. Time to figure out who was stronger.

Their swords were about to cross again...but they didn't.

Manolo and Carlos became astonished to see a third blade intervene between theirs. Both of them looked to the right to see Maria at the other end of the third sword.

"Enough!"

Carlos wanted to keep fighting, but Manolo was willing to listen.

"Miss Posada, this is none of your concern."

"It is when life and death between any human lives are involved! You, Mr. Sanchez, are his _father_! And Manolo, you are his _son!_ A son was created to learn from his father and carry on that wisdom to create a better future for his fellow youth.

And Mr. Sanchez, a father was created to be somebody his children could look up to; someone that dream of being like by the time they are your age. Why? Why would you ever forbid Manolo to be himself? Family was made to be shelter, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen!

Please don't let your pride blind you. Both of you are connected by your flesh and blood."

Manolo stared at the ground for a minute. Then, he dropped his sword and pulled Maria close.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Maria and Manolo then looked at Carlos.

"_Apa, No vamos a luchar." _(Dad, let's not fight.)

From afar, Xibalba, had been watching and had his heart set on the death of the two. He couldn't let it have a happy ending. Then, it hit him! He knew how to stop this.

He froze time, and everyone in it except Carlos. The old matador didn't understand what was happening.

"Carlos Sanchez." Xibalba called.

"Yeah?"

"I have a friend who is _dying _say hello."

"Who?"

The dark god suddenly vanished, and sent an illusion. A familiar illusion to be exact.

When Carlos blinked, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't believe it; it was her.

"Carmen?"

"Yes."

Am-am I dead?"

"No; I just missed you. La Muerte, the goddess of goodness spoke to her husband, Xibalba, and decided to let me visit you, but I can only stay for a few minutes."

He walked towards the face of his loved one. They didn't speak, they just kissed.

And almost instantly, the illusion vaporized, and slithered down his throat like a parasite. He gagged and coughed for a minute, not understanding where she went.

Time's rate kicked back into gear, and he was back with Manolo and Maria.

"I don't want to fight you anymore." Manolo said.

"Then I won't. I love you, son." Manolo shook hands with his father, and started off with Maria on his arm.

Carlos knelt down to dispose of his weapon; but something clutched onto the inside of him. He felt another presence inside him; something...unholy.

"Stab him. Stab him ." The voice said.

Carlos wasn't sure why, but he almost instantly lost himself, and became another person. The possessed shell picked up the weapon, and darted towards Manolo, screaming like an Indian warrior.

Out of instinct, Manolo froze, but managed to push Maria out of the way before Carlos pushed the blade through his son, and spit on the injured, young matador.

"Manolo!" Maria shrieked.

She quickly ran to his side, and held his hand to let him know she was there.

"Why, Carlos? Why?!"

Her head became heavy, and it crashed onto Manolo's chest while she sobbed.

Joaquin was there to help her move their friend to a safe place. Joaquin carried, while Maria stayed behind to yell at Carlos.

Elder or not, she let her hand smack him.

"If Manolo doesn't pull through, will you even care?"

Carlos's vision suddenly lightened, and he finally knew where he was again.

He looked around quizzically.

"Wh-what happened?"

Maria's ruby irises just overflowed with grief again, and she she ran off in disgust to go help Joaquin take care of Manolo.

"Maria! What happened?" Carlos called.

END OF PART 3


	4. Chapter 4

Manolo and the Matador Part 4

Manolo had been taken to Maria's where his friends were trying to make sure he'd survive his stab wound. Near sunset, he awoke in agony and was extremely frightened when he didn't recognize the place he was in.

He looked to the right, and noticed Maria standing on her balcony, watching the fiery sphere settle down to sleep. Faintly hearing her voice, he listened.

"Please, let Manolo be okay; because if he dies now...then he'll never know."

"_Know what?" _he wondered

"Maria.." he weakly called.

"Manolo!"

She ran, and sat on the bed's edge. He was awake! Her cheer ended when she saw her best friend grasp at his wound where a towel was firmly wrapped.

"How much pain are you in?"

"It's like a Big Daddy bull rammed right into me."

"Don't worry; Joaquin already left to get you some medicine."

This news relieved him a little, but he was sure it wasn't going to save his life that was already fading. He may have woken disoriented, but he still remembered what exactly happened before the Paris poster taped to ceiling above him came into view. That's what solved it.

Maria had always wanted to visit Paris; so did he. When he was eight, he usually entertained the thought of taking her there for a special anniversary vacation. That's another thing that kept his chin up when he trained all those years...the dream of marrying her.

"Paris." he whispered.

"What?"

"Your poster. I remember you always mentioning what a beautiful place it'd be to visit."

"Yeah."

While she still stared at the poster, he took her hand and put it in his. She looked down at the sight she had only dreamed of, and blushed.

"Where's my dad?" he asked.

"Probably still at the stadium. I still can't fathom he'd run a blade right through you."

"Me neither. I thought we had settled everything; we shook hands, Maria! What's wrong with him?"

"Manolo, it's simple...he was telling you that, so he'd catch you blind sided."

Manolo looked away, from her. The recovering crack in his heart split open again. So much had happened in the last few months, it was just too overwhelming; the only thing now that'd reseal his heart was cement.

Yes, over the years he became just as rebellious as Maria and disobeyed his father on several occasions. But nothing he told his father would just penetrate his stubborn attitude and let him play with his guitar.

"You wanna be alone?"

"Sure."

After the door was closed, he allowed his tears to flow. He was gonna die, his father just tried to kill him, and his best friends will be alone once he's gone.

"Please help me." he said while staring towards the balcony.

"I will." a voice answered.

"Huh?"

He turned his head, and right next to him, Xibalba was standing next to the bedside.

"What if I told you, that you could die happy?"

"Wh-what do y-you mean?" Manolo coughed over the blood in his throat.

Xibalba vanished once again, and sent the Carmen illusion to the dying boy. He almost cried again when that beautiful, caring, woman appeared.

"Mama..."

"Hello, Mi hijo. I know how serious your wound is, and I promise you that I'll escort you into the Land of the Remembered myself, if you want to leave now."

H was in too much pain to wait any longer for Joaquin to return with the medicine; but he could stay a little longer to wait for one more thing.

"Can I say good-bye to my friends?"

"Of course."

At that moment, his friends ran in, and the illusion remained invisible to them, only Manolo could still see her plain as day.

"Manolo, good news! Joaquin just got back, and this'll help numb your pain without knocking you out."

"I don't need it."

"What to do you mean?"

" I'm going to die. There's no use in trying."

"No you won't! Just take this medicine to start the healing."

"Maria, I stopped healing three months ago when I was thrown out by my father."

Joaquin was slowly falling apart. He didn't want either of his childhood friends to die.

"C'mon Manny, your stronger than that. All you need is a little sleep."

"Forgive me, Amigo."

Both knew that he had given up; they just didn't want to accept this. If only Carlos would've been satisfied with a draw, than neither of them would've been harmed, and everybody would be sitting out on the porch, enjoying a delicious Mexican dinner made with love by the hands of Joaquin's mom.

Maria sat on the bedside once again. Manolo responded by reaching up and stroking the extra curls from her face. The whites of her eyes were being stained red by the newborn tears that escaped .

"No llores, honey." (Don't cry)

"What did you call me?"

"Te amo."

She cried even harder. He just said 'I love you.'

"I love you, too." she answered.

Her answer made him feel content. He then looked at Joaquin.

"Friends 'till the end." Manolo said.

"Friends 'till the end." Joaquin responded.

The room flooded with the tears of the three amigos.

"We're gonna miss you." said Joaquin.

Manolo then closed his eyes and left.

PART 5 COMING SOON


	5. Chapter 5

Manolo and the Matador Part 5

On September 17, in the Land of the Remembered, while the fiestas went on, and the confetti rained all over the parade floats, La Muerte remained seated on her throne, and enjoyed the sound of everyone laughing and singing; she even saw a few fireworks from her window across the room.

Just then, one of her servants entered through the front palace doors.

"Your Majesty!"

"Yes, Ricardo?"

"We have someone joining us today."

"How lovely. Another one who is wearied by the long years in the world will finally be able rest, and not worry about anything ever again. What's his name?"

Scrolling his skeleton finger over his clipboard, he searched for the name.

"One moment, my Queen, so many people have died in the last month, it's challenging to keep record. I mean, c'mon, is bubonic plague making a comeback or something? Uh, okay, let's see...his name is Manolo Sanchez."

"Manolo Sanchez? How did _he_ die? I want his life record."

"Let me check. He was born Manolo Luna Sanchez on December 29, 1992; his mom Carmen, joined us on May 5, 1995, everyone in his family is a bullfighter, he plays the guitar, and died because of a stab wound his father gave him."

"His father? Hmmm. I want you to bring Manolo here, yourself; I need to ask him a few questions."

"Yes, my Queen."

As soon as Ricardo left, La Muerte nervously stood up, and paced across the the throne room. She was so confused about Manolo's death, she didn't know what to think. Her worry caused her to start lightly chewing the polish off her nails. She watched Manolo and his friends since they were all eight years old. Only, once Maria went to school in Spain, she took a break from watching because she thought keeping an eye on them would be better when all three were together again. Maybe if she had kept watching, she could've done something to rescue him.

"_What's wrong, my love?"_

She quickly responded by turning around and saw Xibalba making himself comfortable in her throne.

"What do you want?"

"I just wanna know what's on that pretty mind of yours."

"A person I used to watch as a child just passed away from his father giving him a stab wound. What could've possessed him to do such a crazy thing?"

Her remark made Xibalba nervous. The last thing he wanted was his ex to find out about what he did, however he accidentally let something slip. 

"Possessed." he repeated.

"Why'd you repeat that?"

"Repeat what?"

"You just repeated the word possessed."

"No I didn't. I just said possessed, what?"

"You had something to do with Manolo's death, didn't you?"

"Whhhhaaaaaattttt?" He said as his voice heightened.

Xibalba flinched a little when his wife, who was more powerful than him, huffed as her hands holstered themselves onto her hips. She then looked away in disappointment. He just HAD to chill her out before he ended up hanging over the cave of souls, because he knew she'd be the one to cut the rope.

"Honey, sweetheart, my little _sopa pia_-"

"DON'T YOU _SOPA PIA _ME! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, JUST LIKE YOU KILLED MANOLO!"

"Right now?"

"YES, RIGHT NOW!"

"Uh, careful my love, your really going stir up your ulcer."

"I DON'T HAVE AN ULCER ANYMORE! I'M DEAD!"

"Oh, yeah."

La Muerte's emotions came from anger, and faded into a broken heart. She brought her hands up to her face and cried as if she had just become a widow. Ever since she met him, she could tell it was unwise to marry him. She gave him so many chances, and used her love to keep her patience steadfast. Many times, he messed with the living; but never, had he ever caused the death of one.

She turned so her only her back was visible. His conscience felt like a mountain on him once her tears flowed. Her wavy, midnight hair slightly vibrated whenever she inhaled to take a breath.

"Xibalba, I'm so disappointed; you know I love you, so why do you act this way?"

"My love, I-"

"Don't call me that anymore! I am NOT your love! I'll be surprised if anyone ever ends up loving you! You took my heart, and you stomped all over it."

Xibalba tried to put his hand on her should to try talking, but she didn't even want his hands on her.

"Just get out. I don't wanna see you anymore, for as long as I am alive; and with me being a goddess, you might wanna count the days."

He sadly walked back toward her throne, and walked through the wall as if it were made of water.

La Muerte slowly stopped crying once Xibalba left. She needed to compose herself, now; Manolo was on the way, after all, and her guard, Ricardo shouldn't see the Queen of Love with a broken heart. She walked back to her throne and remained seated with a straight back and kept her head royally high.

The doors opened again, and Manolo and Ricardo walked through.

"Your Highness, I have brought Manolo Sanchez as you requested."

"Thank you, Ricardo. I'd like you to leave us, now."

"Yes, your Grace."

"Manolo Sanchez, I am La Muerte, the queen of this most colorful land."

Manolo bowed in respect and remained still until he was given permission to stand up.

"Now, my guard, Ricardo, tells me that your life record says you died of a stab wound your father gave you."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Can you remember what happened before that?"

"Yes. A few months ago, my father disowned me, and my anger led me to challenge him to a sword fight; Maria stopped me, and my father and I agreed we wouldn't fight, but when my back was turned, he the weapon through me like I was a kabab or something."

"Manolo, your father didn't kill you on purpose."

"What?!"

"My ex-husband, Xibalba, possessed him, and caused him to attack you."

La Muerte lost it again, and cried into her lap.

"What's wrong Your Majesty?"

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop him!"

"It wasn't your fault."

She didn't hear him over her weeping. Manolo walked up to her, and gave her a hug, because he knew that's not all she was upset over."

"I'm sorry he hurt you." He said.

The queen was shocked in how sweet he was. No wonder Maria adored him.

Because he was so kind, she allowed him to return to the Land of the Living. 


	6. Chapter 6

Manolo and the Matador Part 6

Back in San Angel, Maria was sitting on her bed, and, in a depressed way, just continued staring ahead at the open balcony. Although a beautiful sunset was getting ready to end, she felt like she was drowning in a heavy rainstorm.

Manolo's corpse was still lying right behind her, with his head perfectly still on the pillow. Whenever Joaquin tried to ask her if she wanted Manolo to be buried yet. The answer was always no.

She was so distraught. Manolo's innocent laugh, his beautiful personality, and his gifted voice were all gone. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

"Yes?"

Joaquin barged in, with a smile on his face.

"Maria..."

"Why are you smiling? Have you forgotten Manolo just died a few minutes ago?"

"No, I just-"

"Shame on you!"

"Maria, listen, I-"

His words were cut off when a familiar voice could be heard from outside. Maria and Joaquin looked at each other in confusion, and then ran to the balcony.

Maria nearly had a heart attack when they looked outiside.

On the ground, stood Manolo playing his guitar with that familiar little smile on his face.

Thinking this was a prank, both looked back at the bed where Manolo had been left after he died. Then, Joaquin nearly had a heart attack when they saw Manolo's body was gone.

"Joaquin?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you move Manolo's body?"

"No."

They knew for sure it was Manolo now.

"Hey! What good is musician when nobody listens to him?"

Maria and Joaquin ran downstairs and outside to meet and greet Manolo. Joaquin picked him up in the air as if he were a puppy, while Maria hugged him. Once his feet touched the ground again, Maria pulled him into a kiss.

"What was that?"

"Just a welcome back present."

"You want yours?"

She nodded. He acted like he was gonna kiss her back, but when she saw him take off, Maria and Joaquin followed him, until they lost sight of him in town square. They couldn't see him, but then, his singing voice was heard. They saw him standing on the rim of the statue of Joaquin's father.

"_Wise man say, only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you, I can't help falling in love with you."_

Maria approached him, where he jumped off the statue.

"Now, here's the last of your gift."

Manolo took Maria in his arms and kissed her.

"You make a cute couple." They heard someone say.

The two looked up to see Carlos. He walked towards Manolo looking so relieved to see him okay.

"I'm sorry I treated you so wrong, Son."

Manolo extended his hand for a hand shake; it was accepted.

From afar, a certain goddess was watching. She was glad this whole fiasco was solved. She was sneak attacked by a pair of hands covering her eyes.

"Guess who."

"Take your hands off me, or you die."

"Close enough."

She saw her ex standing there, with guilt all over his face.

"Hi."

"What do you want?"

"Another chance. Sweetheart, I've always kept my heart reserved because I don't think I could ever find anyone who is so patient, kind, and beautiful who'd ever find it in their heart to give me as much chances as you. And, you know what my favorite place is for you?"

"What?"

"Here on the rooftop at sunset. Your skin glitters like the night sky, your hair is like a ebony ocean, and have I ever mentioned how great a scarlet dress looks on you?" 

She smiled.

They walked toward each other; La Muerte took a flower from her hat and began taking turns with Xibalba of pulling off the petals one by one."

"He loves me." She said

"She loves me not." He said with a goofy face

By the time the sun went down, they had both landed on the same one.

"You love me." They said in unison

THE END


End file.
